


Fun at the Fair

by Mraowface



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, dodgems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 12:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20582615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mraowface/pseuds/Mraowface
Summary: Crowley drags Aziraphale to the funfair and makes him go on the dodgems.  It just needed to happen...





	Fun at the Fair

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to valvopus for the beta, and the bad influence!

****"No!"

"Why not, it'll be fun!"

"I've seen those places, they're all garish lights and unpleasant music."

"It's what humans do! They go out and enjoy themselves. And if we're mentioning unpleasant music, last week's opera you made me sit through nearly sober..."

"Well, alright" said Aziraphale begrudgingly. He hadn't really enjoyed sitting through La Boheme sober either. He looked down at the offensively bright flyer. "We'll go to the funfair, if you'll take me to dinner first."

Crowley's yellow eyes lit up. "It's a deal, angel!"

*****

Aziraphale frowned as Crowley dragged him along by the hand. The funfair seemed a little _sticky._ Still, Crowley was entranced already, and a minor miracle had dampened the thumping beat of the music.

"Let's do this one first!". Crowley gestured with their clasped hands at the maze of mirrors.

Feeling more than a little relief (the neon painted ride a few feet further along was jerking upwards alarmingly, and Aziraphale's stomach was turning already), the angel assented quickly.

Crowley hurried them inside. When they were suddenly met with half a dozen fractured Crowleys and Aziraphales, his face filled with childish glee.

"Angel, you're gorgeous," he murmured, dropping Aziraphale's hand to wave at a nearby reflection. Then, feeling rather taken with his own looks, he adjusted his sunglasses and ran his fingers down the black fabric of his shirt.

Aziraphale, meanwhile, had bypassed the murmured compliment, and gone straight to noticing the pudge of his belly, laid bare by the angled mirrors. He turned to get a better look, and when he looked back, Crowley had gone.

Only panicking slightly, Aziraphale told himself to stay calm, after all this was designed as entertainment for children. He reached out with his hands, and fumbled for an opening in the maze.

Seven minutes later, Aziraphale was completely lost, and absolutely panicking very much more than slightly. He couldn't find Crowley, or the entrance, or the exit. His brain was swirling with thoughts, fuelled by the damned reflections he was hopelessly surrounded by. He felt horribly ineffectual, and avoided catching his own eye in the many dismayed reflections.

As the irrational panic rose inside him, he closed his eyes and his mind wailed "Crowley, where _are_ you?"

The world jolted. Aziraphale felt Crowley's unmistakable skinny arms around him. "I've got you, angel. What happened?"

Aziraphale's eyes were a little blurry as he opened them. They were back on the grass outside the maze. He shook his head, feeling weak and silly.

Crowley looked at him affectionately though, and his anxiety began to melt. And when the demon ushered him to the nearest candyfloss stand, he was already feeling more like himself.

"Oh my dear, this really is rather good!" Aziraphale let the spun sugar slowly dissolve on his tongue. "Do try some."

Crowley tried to wave him away, but seeing the still fragile expression on Aziraphale's face, he relented and allowed him to bring a wisp of candyfloss up to his mouth.

"Bleurgh! Aziraphale, it's disgusting!" Crowley grimaced and stuck his tongue out a little, teeth trying to scour it free of the taste.

Aziraphale relaxed a bit more, enjoying the performance his demon was putting on. Maybe the funfair wasn't all bad after all.

When Aziraphale had finished his candyfloss (getting rid of his sticky fingers with yet another discreet miracle), and they had bickered for a few minutes over the merits and horrors of carnival food, Crowley pointed out the next attraction to have caught his eye.

The haunted house had a short queue, mainly composed of awkward teenage couples. Aziraphale felt himself getting agitated again, but when Crowley took his arm, and when he glanced at the sheer pride on the demon's face, he swallowed down the negative thoughts, focussing instead on how good the demon looked draped on his arm.

When they got on the ride, a series of rickety cars that would take them through the apparently haunted experience, Crowley was once more buzzing with excitement. He revelled in finding out what horrors were born of the human imagination.

Two skeletons and a highly unrealistic witch later, Crowley clicked his fingers. The ride stopped. Aziraphale waited in the darkness.

"This is **shit!"** Crowley exclaimed. "This species created the Spanish inquisition! They lived through a near apocalypse! But when it comes to scaring people, they come up with this... This!"

Aziraphale felt on much safer ground. 360° views of his least favourite features might shake him, but he knew where he was with an apoplectic Crowley.

"You could always fix it," he remarked lightly.

"Angel, you've been hanging around the wrong people," Crowley said in an admiring tone. Aziraphale looked a little smug.

When they climbed off the ride ten minutes later, both of them were beaming. Crowley was particularly proud of his likeness of a horribly Hastur, and the illusory hellfire looked terrifyingly realistic. Aziraphale was just happy to see his demon having so much fun.

"What next?" Aziraphale looked around at the remaining attractions.

"Absolutely the best bit. Wait till you see this," Crowley enthused. The upswing of his mood was dizzying.

It was hard to be a steadying influence while being dragged by the elbow, but Aziraphale attempted it. And groaned when he realised where they were headed.

"Crowley, you can't! There are children!"

"It's safe! Look, they've got seatbelts!" Crowley's eyes focussed on one particular black dodgem, and Aziraphale knew better than to waste any more effort arguing.

After some fussing with tokens, and a subtle expansion of the dodgem to make room for both ethereal and occult beings, the little car sped off across the rink. The sound dampening miracle abruptly cut out, as Freddie Mercury unmistakably cut in.

_"Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time..."_

Aziraphale decided afterwards that he'd mercifully blacked out most of the great dodgems battle that had apparently taken place. He remembered improbable speed. Gripping Crowley's shoulder and staring into a familiar face gone fully demonic. Quavering out the words "Crowley, you go too -"

"Don't say ITTTT," roared Crowley. Then, even louder, "DON'T STOP ME NOW!" The car enthusiastically rammed into a three way head on collision, scattering the other dodgems and jarring Aziraphale's knee against the wheel.

Aziraphale remembered increasingly blurred faces, and a truly maniacal laugh streaming forth beside him. Aziraphale didn't quite understand the need for speed, but he settled for gripping Crowley's shoulder even tighter, sending up prayers for the wellbeing of all funfair attendees, and hysterically assuring himself that Crowley absolutely knew what he was doing, they went much faster than this in the Bentley, and if you were _supposed_ to hit people in this hellish contraption then surely there wasn't any problem...

After three minutes and thirty seconds of sheer unadulterated panic, it was over. Aziraphale gratefully allowed Crowley to help him from his seat.

"That was _fantastic!_ Thank you, angel," Crowley grinned.

"Um, yes. What for, my dear?" said a greenish Aziraphale.

"For putting up with me. Come on, this last one's for you."

Trusting him not to have planned anything involving a thirty foot drop or being turned upside down, Aziraphale allowed himself to be led by Crowley once again.

"Well my dear, this _does_ look more pleasant!"

There were pink swirling teacups, and a rather unlikely violin concerto had replaced the synthethised music. As the ride paused and they got on, Aziraphale squeezed the demon's arm in approval.

The world span sedately around them, and Crowley nuzzled in close to Aziraphale's chest. Aziraphale stroked his cheek absent mindedly, and allowed Crowley's head to slowly droop onto his lap. It had been a long evening, but a good one. As the sound of soft demonic snoring drifted up into the air, Aziraphale ensured the ride span on and on.


End file.
